Chapter 14
Theo
“I’m gonna hunt for the dinosaur unicorn now!
” Debbie announced with the kind of sudden determination that only five-year-olds could muster.
She bounced off my lap like she’d been spring-loaded and raced toward the living room, leaving behind a sticky plate and our conversation about adoption and wedding planning.
I sat there for a moment, still processing the whiplash of going from “Can I adopt you?” to “Can I be the flower girl?” to “I’m gonna hunt for a long-extinct fictional creature” in the span of a few heartbeats.
Only a child could pivot from life-altering conversations to mythical mayhem without missing a beat.
I shook my head with a smile that felt permanently etched on my face and surveyed our disaster zone of a kitchen.
Flour dusted every surface like snow, chocolate chips had somehow migrated to the floor despite Debbie’s careful measuring technique, and there was syrup on things that had never been anywhere near the syrup bottle.
It looked like a small culinary tornado had blown through, but I couldn’t bring myself to care, not after watching Debbie’s face light up when I’d asked to be her daddy for real, not after she’d casually accepted the idea of Jeremiah joining our little family like it was the most natural thing in the world.
What was that all about, anyway?
We barely knew the guy. Sure, he was hot and sexy and had the most brilliant smile that curled my toes and made me gushy, but he was still basically an unknown.
Had he not been our delivery guy, I never would’ve let him even meet my daughter before months of dating and vetting and background checks and possibly a lie detector test.
I hadn’t done any of that.
The thought slapped me harder than a drag queen’s quips in her opening monologue.
We let a stranger into our house. I let him play with my daughter.
A shiver crawled up my spine as nightmares of kidnappings—or worse—caused my brain to spiral into vile, dark places.
Had I put my family at risk? Had I put Debbie in danger?
Was Jeremiah, like I taught Debbie most strangers were, a threat I’d welcomed with open, horny arms?
Moby Dick and the Seven Dwarves, Theo, get a grip, my logical brain chided. He’s a good guy. Even Debbie can sense it. Besides, it’s not like you left her alone with him.
True as that might’ve been, it didn’t ease the vise on my heart.
Why did everything have to be so confusing, so frustratingly overwhelming?
Why couldn’t life be simple and easy, like in the movies I watched on Lifetime?
Happily ever afters just happened in those movies.
Doggonit, I wanted my own HEA, and I wanted it to be simple and clean and . . .
I banged my head against a cabinet door, more to knock sense into myself than anything.
My life would never be simple or easy.
But Jeremiah was a good guy. I believed that.
Sure, Cuddles hated him, but dogs didn’t know everything.
Debbie had never liked any man she’d met; at least, not any man I’d been interested in.
I mean, it wasn’t as though I dated a lot.
Fine, at all. Still, the one or two times I let a man meet my baby, she’d promptly turned up her lip, spun about, and stormed out, threatening to never leave her room “until he was gone.”
But not Jeremiah.
She liked Jeremiah.
I could see her grow to . . .
I shook off the words. That thought was too big, too grand, too . . . everything. I couldn’t handle it, not in that moment, possibly ever.
Jesus. What was I thinking?
My hand pried itself free from a puddle of syrup I hadn’t realized I’d laid it in, stringing golden liquid as it did.
“Awesome. That’s just awesome,” I said to the syrup, as though tree sap could hear me and respond. Stupid sap.
I spent the next thirty minutes scrubbing sticky fingerprints off cabinet doors and wondering how a five-year-old could generate so much mess from pancakes.
By the time I’d restored some semblance of order, Debbie had found her elusive dinosaur unicorn—a purple stuffed animal that was definitely a Barney with a construction paper horn taped to its forehead—and was conducting an elaborate tea party in the living room.
“Button, I’m going to shower,” I called. “Julia will be here soon, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy. Me and Sir Hornsworth are having a very important meeting about dragon cookies.”
I chuckled and headed upstairs, already mentally cataloging what I needed to do to get ready. Shower, find clothes that didn’t make me look like a rumpled librarian, attempt to tame my hair into something resembling a style, maybe splash on the cologne I’d bought three years ago and never opened.
Was the tangy scent of Drakkar still in fashion?
The hot water felt amazing against my shoulders as I stood under the spray, trying to calm the nervous energy that had been building all morning. This was just lunch. Casual, low pressure, no big deal.
Except it felt like a huge deal.
It felt like the kind of lunch that could change everything.
I was stepping out of the shower when I realized I couldn’t hear anything other than Debbie’s tea party.
Julia should have been here by now. It was eleven-forty, and she was supposed to arrive at eleven-thirty so I could brief her on Debbie’s lunch preferences and appear properly relaxed when Jeremiah showed up.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and checked my messages.
None.
Maybe she was just running a few minutes late. Julia was seventeen—punctuality wasn’t exactly her strong suit. In fact, I wasn’t sure it was even in her vocabulary.
I got dressed quickly, pulling on dark jeans and a blue button-down that Debbie had declared “very handsome” when I’d tried it on yesterday. My hair was still damp and doing that thing where it stuck up at odd angles no matter what I did to it.
Eleven-fifty.
Still no Julia.
I sent her a quick text.
Me: Hey, running a bit late? Everything okay?
Minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness.
Eleven-fifty-five.
Eleven-fifty-eight.
My phone chimed. I snatched it up like Harrison Ford grabbing the Holy Grail.
Postie: Hey you. Don’t hate me. Traffic’s evil. I’m about twenty mins late.
I let out a relieved sigh. That gave Julia—and me—time.
Me : No worries. Julia’s late, too. Take your time.
I texted Julia again.
My phone remained stubbornly silent.
At exactly noon, when Jeremiah was scheduled to arrive, my phone finally rang.
“Mister J, oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Julia’s voice was breathless and panicked.
It was hard to hear her over the unmistakable noise of heavy traffic.
It sounded like she was standing in the middle of the interstate.
“I know you’re probably freaking out right now, but my car completely died on the way over.
Like, dead dead. It won’t even turn over. ”
My stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles. “Where are you?”
“Stuck on the side of I-85 waiting for a tow truck. My dad’s on his way, but there’s no way I can make it to your place in time. I am so, so sorry. I know you had that lunch thing today.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to five, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. It wasn’t Julia’s fault her car had broken down. Life happened.
“Do you need help? I could come pick you up—”
“No, no, my dad’s already on his way. You should go on your date. Can’t you take Debbie with you?”
The suggestion hung in the air between us. Take a five-year-old on what was supposed to be my second attempt at a first date with Jeremiah? In what gay universe was that acceptable?
“I don’t think that’s really an option,” I said.
“Oh. Right. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Julia’s voice was small and guilty. “God, I really screwed this up for you, didn’t I?”
“It’s not your fault,” I assured her, though my chest felt tight with frustration. “Cars break down. Just be safe, okay?”
But even as I said it, I was mentally scrolling through my brief list of backup babysitters.
Mrs. Rodriguez next door was visiting her sister in Savannah.
My coworker Sarah was at her daughter’s soccer tournament.
The college student who sometimes helped had gone home for the weekend to study for finals.
I tried calling Mrs. Patterson, a woman who lived down the street and had offered to help with Debbie in emergencies. Straight to voicemail.
I even tried Cuddles’s owner, Mrs. Chen, despite the fact that she was ancient and had made it clear that her babysitting days were behind her. No answer.
By twelve-fifteen, I was officially out of options.
With hands that felt unsteady, I scrolled to Jeremiah’s contact information and hit call.
He picked up on the second ring, and I could hear the ambient noise of honking cars and idling engines.
“Hey, I know. I’m super late. I’m so sorry. I-85 isn’t moving at all. I think there’s a crash or somebody broken down. This totally sucks.” When I didn’t respond right away, his voice shifted from frustration to concern. “Theo? Everything okay?”
The kindness in his voice made this somehow worse.
“Jeremiah, I’m so sorry,” I started, and I could hear my own defeat in the words. “Julia’s car broke down. She’s probably the reason you’re stuck in traffic. I . . . I can’t find another babysitter, and I know this is the second time I’ve had to cancel last minute, but I can’t leave Debbie alone.”
There was a pause that lasted approximately forever.
“Oh, okay,” he said finally, and I couldn’t read anything in that single syllable.
“I know how this sounds,” I rushed on, the words tumbling over themselves. “I know it seems like I’m making excuses or that I don’t want to see you, but I swear that’s not what’s happening. I was really looking forward to this, and I’m just—”
“Theo.” His voice cut through my rambling gently. “Breathe.”
I took a shaky breath, realizing I’d been spiraling into full panic mode.